


The Old Me Started To Bleed

by DefaltManifesto



Series: Becoming a Pack [25]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's losing control but he doesn't dare let anyone see. At least not until they start insisting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Me Started To Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> There's some hints of what's coming in this part. Also I feel like Scott was being sorely neglected the last few parts. I hope you enjoy this. Comments are loved. Title taken from She Won't Follow You by Say Anything. Mostly inspired by I Want To Know Your Plans by Say Anything.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Scott felt like he was losing control of literally every situation in his life. Despite everything that happened, and no matter how hard he tried, Stiles kept drifting away, his false platitudes fooling no one. Scott didn't know how to fix him though, so he let the lie stand and widen the ever-growing gap between them. And then, of course, he couldn't forget Rafael and his goddamn insistence on being back in Scott's life. And finally-

"C'mon Scott. You're smarter than this," Lydia said.

"Yeah well I'm having trouble focusing. What kind of sadistic teacher has a test the third week back?" Scott slumped down in his chair. "And since when did Harris teach biology anyway? I swear that guy just follows us every year."

Lydia sighed and set the flashcards aside before leaning back in her own chair. For once they actually _weren't_ at Derek's, instead camping out in Scott's dining room. Jackson pretty much monopolized all of Derek and Isaac's time and Scott didn't want to intrude, even if he knew he was welcome to. He knew everyone else could take care of Jackson, but he was the one Stiles needed. As much as he cared about Jackson, he found his thoughts turning more and more to his best friend.

"Alright, so talk," Lydia said. "Clearly you aren't going to be able to focus until you've got whatever it is out of your system."

Scott twiddled his pencil between his fingers. He knew Lydia was good at helping. It was simply what she did, and she spent 90% of her time putting both Scott and Derek to shame when it came to handling the pack. But the thing was, he didn't _want_ her help. He wanted to be enough to fix Stiles, fix the shit with his biological father, fix all of it. He _needed_ to prove he was enough, not the pack, but to himself.

"I can handle it," Scott said after another beat of silence. "Really."

Lydia actually spared him her usual judgmental look that she used whenever anyone said anything she wasn't even close to believing. She grabbed her bag off the floor and shouldered it.

"Alright, well when you're done lying to yourself, let me know," Lydia said.

"Yeah, okay," Scott said, unable to find the energy to be angry.

He didn't move after she left, feeling overwhelmed but unsure of _how_ he was supposed to address it. More than anything, he couldn't stand the thought of becoming a burden. It was paralyzing, but after a few minutes, he forced himself to stand and gather up his notes. He wanted to go to Stiles', but Stiles was half the problem and-

Scott sucked in a harsh breath when the doorbell rang. He was getting better and better at recognizing Rafael's scent even a room and several doors away. That was a bit of a shame though, because that meant Rafael was showing up way more than necessary. Part of him wanted to go confront him, tell him to fuck off and threaten a restraining order, but another part, a _stronger_ part, just wanted to run away.

Which...

Scott turned and headed for the staircase, taking them two at a time and heading for his room. He grabbed his bag off the floor and slung it over his shoulder before opening the window and hopping onto the windowsill.

Sure, it was cowardly. He was pretty much passed any semblance of giving a shit though. The drop down to the ground was something he was used to and vaulting over the back fence to reach the woods beyond was basically muscle memory. The air moving through his lungs as he set off at a light jog was still chilled. Not cold, but different enough that it seemed to jar his senses. He avoided heading for the Hale House. There was no way he _wouldn't_ end up feeling like a burden if he went there.

So instead, he found his feet following the old running trails Allison used. They were familiar to him because that was where they met up when trying to maintain their relationship behind her family's back. Despite how those memories were tinged with fear, he found the familiarity comforting. As he ran, he let himself think. It was less anxiety inducing that way because he was giving the energy some place to go before it built up enough to become a problem.

If he were being honest with himself, which he wasn't totally sure he was capable of, Scott would admit that his biggest problem was he didn't know where he stood. He saw everyone around him growing closer and closer, while he just sort of...existed. He couldn't fix Stiles, or Jackson, or his relationship with his father. He'd barely been able to be much help at all when it came to dealing with the Casia Pack and the hunters. The entire time, Scott had felt like he was plugging up holes in a dam doomed to break. He just felt...

"Useless," Scott muttered as he slowed to a halt.

He'd reached the topmost bluff that looked over Beacon Hills, the one he and Allison used to frequent, and before that, he and Stiles. A heavy sigh blew passed his lips and he tossed his bag on the ground beside the large boulder. He stretched out on top of it and stared up at the overcast sky. He felt a bit calmer, but also a lot shittier because he always had a sinking feeling that he really had no place in Derek's pack but to actually admit it kind of, _completely_ , sucked.

Scott glared up at the sky.

He wasn't sure what to do with the revelation. Even if he was useless, he couldn't just leave because that would mean severing the bond so deeply embedded in his chest. He didn't know if it was possible to survive that level of pain. His thoughts worked his mind into such a whirlwind, he didn't smell or hear Allison's approach until her hands smacked against the stone on either side of his head and she leaned over him.

"Hey," Scott said, forcing a smile.

"Hey yourself," Allison said, tucking a few loose hairs behind her ear.

Scott sat up and turned to look at her. She wore her running clothes and most of her hair was captured in a sloppy ponytail.

"Didn't realize you still used these trails," Scott said.

"Sometimes I do," Allison said with a shrug. "Not often. Just when I got a lot on my mind." She nudged him aside and climbed up onto the boulder beside him.

"So you got a lot on your mind then?" Scott asked. He wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulders, desperate for that familiarity, but not wanting to ask for something she didn't want.

"Yeah, but that's not why I'm here," Allison said, shifting around to look out over Beacon Hills. "Lydia said you seemed a little out of it. I just guessed you'd go for a run and thought...maybe you came here when you were stressed too."

Scott didn't turn with her, preferring to stare into the woods instead. "Guess we're still pretty similar."

"Yup."

Allison moved again to lean against Scott's back, the hair of her ponytail tickling his neck. Scott closed his eyes and leaned back into her. The wind blew her scent his way and it was so familiar, so _safe_ , he wanted to cry. He sucked in a tight breath and his lower lip trembled, then his shoulders, and then Allison slid her hand back across the smooth rock to twine her fingers with his.

Scott squeezed her fingers and slumped forward. He rested his forehead against his knees as tears began to escape his eyes, and clung desperately to Allison's fingers in an attempt to keep himself rooted to the real world. He wasn't sure where the tears were coming from. There was just so much rising up in his chest, each emotion fighting for dominance, it overwhelmed him; it _broke_ him.

Allison moved then, taking her hand away but only to turn and wrap her arms around him. He was aware of her murmuring something in his ear, but he couldn't focus enough to understand what it was she was saying, only able to concentrate on the cadence of her voice. Her fingers rubbed over his arms, small points of contact that helped draw him out of his whirlwind of thoughts. He leaned into her weight as his breathing calmed, focusing on how she felt against him. Once he felt composed, he eased out of her grasp, but she didn't let him go far, holding tight to his wrist.

"Scott, please don't walk away," she said. "You need to talk to someone and you know I care. You know I can listen."

"Yeah, I know," Scott said. He pulled his hand away to swipe at his eyes again but he didn't walk away. "I just...feel like I shouldn't be like this. I have no right to be upset."

"Who said that?" Allison asked, hooking her chin over his shoulder. "We've all been through hell the last few months. You're allowed to be upset and hurt, Scott. You don't have to be the one everyone leans on all the time. It's okay to need help. I...know that now."

"I don't see how talking about is going to change anything," Scott said. "It's just...stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid if this is how it makes you feel," Allison said. "If you talk about it, you can share the burden, make it so it doesn't overwhelm you because obviously that's what it's doing."

Scott stayed silent. Allison wrapped her arms around his middle and tucked her legs underneath her body so she could press even closer. Clearly, she was beginning to understand the general neediness of werewolves

"I..." Scott began. "I feel useless. To everyone."

Allison's thumb rubbed against his sternum. She didn't protest his words, and for that he was grateful because he wasn't sure how he'd keep going if she did.

"I tried to help Stiles, but I think I just made it worse," Scott said. "And my dad is here because he's investigating all the unsolved cases and I can't get him to leave or stay away, and what's the point of me if I can't...help?"

"Ah." There was a note of understanding in Allison's voice and her arms tightened around him. "I get that. I didn't know how to be useful after my...after my mom died."

Scott covered her arms with one of his hands.

"And I hurt a lot of people because Gerard convinced me that the only way to be useful was by hurting anyone who was different," Allison said. "And well you saw how well that played out."

"So what are you trying to say?" Scott asked.

"I'm just trying to say you shouldn't be worried about being _useful_. You might become so desperate to be used, you'll let anyone control you," Allison said. "And...you are useful, Scott. You mean the world to all of us."

"But none of you... _need_ me. Not the way you need each other," Scott said, voice cracking at the end.

Allison sighed and let go of him, scooting back on the boulder. "Can you turn and face me, Scott? Please?"

Scott did so, tucking his legs beneath him. He still found himself unable to look at her though, too afraid of any potential judgment he would see in her eyes. Allison cupped his face and urged him to look up. Her gaze was firm, and warm, and full of love and affection and a bit of desperation for him to understand her words.

"We didn't work, Scott, because we _needed_ each other and thought we couldn't live without each other," Allison said. "That level of codependency isn't healthy and that's why things went so bad when we broke up. I _love_ Lydia, but I know my life wouldn't be over if we parted ways. I love the pack too, I'd die to protect _all_ of you, but it's healthier than what you and I had. You can't let your existence and value be determined by others, no matter how much you care about each other."

She released him, eyes searching his expression for some sort of response. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. He knew she was right after all, could hear the truth in her words and the firm rationality and logic behind them, and yet some part of him resisted. It was unhealthy, his need to be needed. But he didn't know how to fix it.

"So what do I do?" Scott asked.

"I don't know," Allison said. "I think you've got to figure out where you fit with the pack again. Not where you're most useful, but where you're happy. You don't have to know where that is now though. I certainly don't."

Scott's lips quirked up. "You seem like you do."

"Well..." Allison shrugged, laughing a little. "I just seem like I do. But seriously, Scott. I'm here for you while you figure this out, all of you us are."

Scott frowned, gaze flicking back dawn to his lap. "What about Stiles?"

A harsh sigh blew passed Allison's lips. "That...there's nothing you can actively do about that, Scott. Stiles is hurting but if he doesn't come to us for help, pushing for him to do so will make him stay away. You've got to let him come to you. Just worry about yourself for now, yeah? Figure out what _you_ want."

Scott groaned and laid back on the boulder. "I don't _know_ what I want."

Allison stretched out beside him, shoulder pressed snug against his. "It's okay. I'll wait."

Her hand twined with his and they stared up at the sky. Scott closed his eyes and let himself float.


End file.
